Batman: Return To Dark Glory
by Penman57
Summary: Batman's injuries after his battle with Bane have left him facing his own mortality, and questioning his ability to keep his oath to the citizens of Gotham City. He has decisions to make, will he continue to fight a losing battle or to win the war.
1. Chapter 1

Greetings to all, this is my first ever offering of my work for public review and critique. I'm honored to finally be present among fellow writers and creative spirits. Please offer your suggestions and opinions to help me grow.

Now, to my story, Batman is on the mend from his battle with Bane which left him almost paralyzed from a broken back. The events have left in a dilemma; for the first time the Dark Knight faces his own mortality and has to re-examine his ability to keep his oath to the citizens of Gotham City.

**Chapter -1 Era's End**

**O**utside, it's a normal morning around the manor, if there really is such a thing. The air is a bit chilly with a few clouds spotting the beautiful blue sky. Inside, Bruce Wayne sits in a large brown leather chair about to read the morning paper. He takes one more sip of his coffee before reading the headlines. He turns it over and positions it on his lap. The headline reads:

**RIDDLER FOUND DEAD IN SEASIDE WAREHOUSE**.

The paper drops to his lap, then slides off to the floor.

"No!" he says. "I'm not ready."

He lifts a small voice activated device from under the blanket covering his legs and says,

"Chair to room four". Then lowers it back to the blanket but still holding it in his hand. He sits there studiously, unmoving, obviously the words of the paper have plunged him into a deep thought. After a few moments the device in his hand begins beeping softly interrupting his thinking. "Oh. I'm sorry," he says and pushes a button on the small box. There's a click in the door to the room and it swings open by itself.

"Come in" he says. A sleek mechanized chair rolls itself into the room and alongside the chair where he sits. He waits a few moments expecting Alfred to enter the room at anytime, but then decides to transfer himself into his mechanical conveyance,

though not without a good degree of effort. Bruce is repositioning the blanket over his legs when Alfred steps into the room carrying a tray. He lifts his eyes to find his friend and employer already in the chair.

"I'm so sorry Master Bruce. I was just…" But Wayne cuts him off.

"It's alright Alfred. I'm fine." Bruce's' comment was expected, but Alfred catches something his inflection.

"I was just bringing you your breakfast sir."

Alfred purposely keeps his tone normal, not to seem overly apologetic, but sincere. Things have been a bit different since the accident.

"Will you be taking breakfast in the office or the bedroom"?

Bruce has yet to look up at his friend. He feigns at repositioning his legs in the chair and smoothing unseen wrinkles in the blanket.

"Neither" Bruce replies while lifting the control device to his lips, then hesitates. "Humph". He grunts. "From a voice-activated Bat-mobile to this", he says, his hand slamming down on the armrest of

the chair. Finally, he looks up at Alfred but only to finish his statement with a critical humor. "Not where I expected to be at this point of my career". Alfred stands there trying not to appear sympathetic. Bruce grasps the directional control of the chair and starts to roll past his manservant.

"Will you be needing anything else this morning sir"?

The question stops Bruce just past the crest of the doorway, but it takes him a few seconds to answer.

"Yes, Alfred". He says. "I'll be taking lunch in the Bat-cave". His announcement hangs in the air. And his head turns halfway waiting for the response he knows will be coming. And it does.

"Do you think that's wise sir"?

Bruce turns the chair around to face Alfred straight on and reveals an expression his friend hasn't seen for a good, many years. And there was good reason for that. The grim expression actually startles Alfred it catching him completely by surprise.

"Wisdom has nothing to do with it anymore". The words are without recourse but filled with intent. There's nothing Alfred can read in his eyes, except a hint of something he really doesn't want to see.

"Master Bruce…." Alfred starts, but Bruce cuts off his plea with a motion with his head, then turns his wheelchair and silently rolls away. Alfred takes a deep breath and looks in the direction of

Bruce's' nod. At first nothing catches his eye; it takes him a moment to scan the small area. Then he sees it, the newspaper lying up against the side of the chair. He has to cock his head to the side to read it clearly. Though anyway it's read the impact would still be the same. The words of the headline scream out at

him filling the elderly gentleman with an instant sense of dread.

"OH NO!" he says. Almost dropping the tray he forgot was in his hands. "He's not ready"!

Bruce rolls down the hallway toward the part of the house that has become the very essence of his very being. The events unveiling themselves in Gotham were not unexpected, though his reaction to them is. They've awakened something in him he thought was long dead. Alfred thought that too. But obviously both of them were mistaken. Bruce is unable to see the concern in his friends' eyes. Though he doesn't have to look at Alfred to know the concern is there. Over the years these two men have established a relationship that could be seen as being closer than brothers, or perhaps even closer than a father and his son. The fact is these two men are friends in the truest sense of the word. Each knows what the other knows, and feels what the other feels. Except in this case. And that's exactly what's bothering Alfred. He doesn't have a clue what is going on in Bruce Wayne's head. If Wayne was a normal man that wouldn't really pose that much of a problem. You'd have a normal guy who's upset, who also happens to be confined to a wheel chair. But unfortunately, Bruce Wayne isn't a normal guy. Amid a myriad of other things, Bruce Wayne is

the Batman. And that by itself leaves room for concern. Only Alfred knows what Bruce had to endure in order to become the Dark Knight, and what he's had to suffer through to remain the Knight. And all this time he would say that he almost knows what

Bruce is thinking, but not any more. Not right now, and that's the

part that really scares him, not right now.

Bruce sits in the vast Bat-cave deep in thought. The paper reported that the police have no clues or suspects in the connection with The Riddlers murder. "There's only one person who has an agenda that would require the removal of every other large scale criminal master-mind in Gotham." he thinks to himself. "But even I didn't think he was deranged enough to actually put such a rabid into action. But he has. And here I sit, out of action and totally unprepared. I've anticipated and countered every move he's ever made, but this time…" his thoughts stop and give rise to total frustration.

"Damn!" he shouts, pounding his fist on the console in front of him. "This time I'm stuck in this blasted wheel chair, totally out of the picture". "Damn" he curses again and this time reaches out to grab a clipboard and flings it across the polished concrete floor of the large room. It slides to rest under the Bat-mobile which sits like it does every night, poised on its' launch pad, ready to go. Bruce looks at the car pointed at the cave exit.

"Are you calling me, or mocking me". He asks. His words echo in the darkness, forcing him to listen to them over and over again before they fade, leaving him alone with the question. A single

light at the far end of the cave throws its' light off the smooth lines of the car and starts Bruce reminiscing about his last mission out. The faint light reminded him of the moonlight on the hood of the car as he raced toward a confrontation with "Bane" but he had allowed himself to become preoccupied with too many others

matters. It almost proved fatal. He ended up with a broken back

as a reminder of his lack of focus. He leans forward in the chair and slides his hand down to the small of his back where the major part of the injury occurred. He rubs over the "neural-enhancing netting" that's helping to speed his recovery.

"No way I'll be back in action in time to stop the Joker though". He says out loud allowing his frustration to get the best of him again.

"Azreal's doing a commendable job filling in for me while I'm on the mend, but he's still isn't ready to mix it up with the Joker. Not on this level anyway. Too much is at stake. That mad man is going to try to turn Gotham into a bloody Armageddon and it's going to take more than just "good" to stop him. He isn't ready to do what has to be done; normally I don't know if I'd be up to it either. But," he leaves his thought hanging for just a second. "But, there aren't any more choices, are there".

He rolls his chair over to the car that started his thoughts to rolling, and gently slides his hand across it's' length, again remembering. It was the Joker who started all this drama so long ago. Neither of us can keep this up forever, maybe he realizes

this. Maybe this is why he's beginning the final song.

Bruce's thoughts are interrupted by a sound from behind him. Alfred.

"Your tea master Bruce". He says as he always does.

"Thank you Alfred" Bruce says, and reaches for his cup. Raising it to his lips he realizes that it's hot and blows on it to cool it.

"What time is it"? He asks unaware

"It's eleven forty-five sir". Alfred replies with a raised eyebrow.

"Hmmm, I didn't realize I had been down here all morning". Bruce says taking his first sip.

"PM Sir". Alfred says demonstratively.

Bruce's face freezes in an expression of surprise.

"You're kidding," he says, hoping for one of those rare comedic moments of Alfred's.

"No sir. I came down a number of times throughout the day, but you were deep in thought. I felt it was best not to disturb you".

"Thank you". He says finishing his tea. "I'll be taking dinner down here".

"I thought you would be. I also took the liberty of transferring your calls to the main console. You'll find eight messages waiting. All from Gordon".

Alfred turns to walk away but stops after a dozen or so steps and walks back toward Bruce.

"It's him isn't it"? He says though not really asking

"Yes, it is. But you already knew that".

Alfred lowers his head as if a guilty man caught.

"You're not prepared Master Bruce what will you do?"

Bruce sets the cup and saucer on his lap and rolls the remaining few feet toward his long time friend.

"That's the question of the day Alfred. What will I do? Or better yet, what can I do!"

"What about Master Azreal, or better yet Master Dick"? Alfred is drawing at straws and he knows it, but he's trying to come up with options, any option, that Bruce might have overlooked.

"Those are both good choices, except that Azreal isn't ready, and this isn't Dicks fight. And beyond that, I don't believe either of them could go the distance in this one. This is going to be a different kind of fight".

"How so sir". This time posing a real question.

"This one's for real Alfred. The Joker is starting a blood frenzy and he's going to have to be matched, drop for drop."

The older gentleman paces a few steps from side to side.

"Well what about tipping off Gordon with precise information". His tone is a bit desperate.

"That wouldn't do much good. The police are already overwhelmed as it is. And the way he's gone under ground and changed his MO, I don't even think our information would help some of the other

super teams that might be available." Bruce slams his hands down

on the armrests again.

"Damn it Alfred! I'm The Batman. He says throwing the blanket that covered his legs. "Look at me, I'm helpless. All because I got careless, just once. Just for a moment and its' cost me everything. Everything I've worked so hard for since my parents death is in jeopardy of being wasted." Again he slams his fists

down, but this time down upon his almost useless legs. "I can't believe it's come to this".

Alfred takes the last step that separates them seeing his long time charge nearing a breaking point. But Bruce holds up his hand, halting Alfred where he stands.

"When I first became The Batman I swore to take down the criminal element that plagues Gotham City. To this end the most I can say is that I've been semi-successful."

"No". Alfred interrupts, "You're really being too hard on yourself Master Bruce. You've been selfless in your dedication to the citizens of this city. I won't allow you to say that."

"Thanks Alfred, but I'm not being too critical. Think back, how many criminals were there in Gotham when I first became the Batman? Six, Seven? How many are there now, almost triple that number. I keep putting them away, but they just keep coming back, each time more deadly than before. And in the middle of that are the innocents who keep getting hurt, and even killed. Even though it was to them I made my vow. I haven't actually rid Gotham of anything. And now with the addition of drugs, gangs

and automatic weapons, it hasn't 'gotten any better, it's 'just gotten worse. So what have I really accomplished"?

Alfred stands there visibly shocked at the Crusaders critical assessment of himself. For the first time in recent history he has

no reply, there is nothing he can say, but that only last for a second.

"Well none the less. I shudder to think of what might have been if you and Master Dick hadn't been there to defend this city as long as you have." His words are determined and he ends his statement looking sternly into Bruce's eyes. Even so Bruce refuses to relent.

"None the less, the questions remains, what will I do." He says straightly. And the answer is, "I don't know. I have no alternatives. There's absolutely nowhere to turn".

Bruce Wayne sits in his wheel chair clutching the armrests with his head hanging. Alfred stands there very concerned, still just half a step away, but honoring the dignity of his friends demand to stand fast. In all the years he has known him Alfred has never seen Bruce so broken. He has always found the strength to remain a mountain of a man, regardless of the circumstances. Always found a way to succeed, despite the odds against him. But right now he just sits, literally, broken as a result of the recent events of his life. These two men have shared many times together. Happy times and sad. Emergencies and celebrations, but they have never faced a crisis as ominous as this. Neither man knows what to say. But the reality is the silence in the Bat-cave is deafening and for a long while neither man moves or speaks.

After several long tenuous moments its' Alfred who finds his voice first. He takes that last half a step separating them and kneels down to look at Bruce face to face. Gently he places his

slightly built, aged hand on Bruce's and calls his name.

"Master Bruce". He says calmly, but gets no answer from the crippled crusader. He waits a few seconds then calls him again. This time simply as a friend.

"Bruce" he says softly. "Is it over"? The words slip strangely form the old mans lips. He can't believe himself that he's actually said the words. But he has.

Bruce begins to raise his head, tears welling in his eyes but not falling. He scans the cavern that has been his base of operations, his sanctuary and his home for more than half of his life. He thinks about his parents and how they died, and about the vow he made to avenge their deaths. His mind races through years of memories and events that forged his determination and made him the man that he has become. And he thinks about his single momentary carelessness that led up to this very moment. And as quickly as that his reminiscing are done, and he comes to himself still in the chair replacing his failing legs and back to that point of decision in his life.

"I just can't believe that its' going to end like this. After everything we've been through, it isn't fair. It just isn't fair!"

Bruce buries his face in his hands and breathes deeply, again and again. Alfred stands looking down at his friend and asks the question again.

"Is it over sir?"

This time Bruce's head rises straight away looking directly into Alfred's' down looking gaze and says very strongly,

"I'm afraid it is Alfred. I'm afraid it is".


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - A New Beginning **

The words still hang heavy in the air. Bruce Wayne can't believe he has just spoken them.

"Yes Alfred, it's over. There's nothing in the utility belt that could get me through this." he says, then slaps his legs hard, and shakes them to emphasize their uselessness.

"I've been searching through libraries of medical journals on paralysis and spinal injuries online hoping to come across a miracle procedure to get me back on my feet. But even the newest, most radical methods available aren't applicaicable to injuries as massive as mine."

Again that silence of hopelessness fills the distance between the two men's discouraged gaze.

"And even if I could get out of this chair, I've got no strategy to help me stop The Joker before he carries out his next plan. There's too many X-factors Alfred, I just don't see a way."

The stately gentleman standing above Bruce has known him all of his life. But never has he heard him make an excuse, or watched

him dodge a responsibility.

"I never thought I'd be saying this to you sir, but, stop it!" his

tone is sharp and meant to be felt. It shocks Bruce to attention that's just what Alfred wanted.

"Now, I've stood hearing listening to you piling up the excuses as to why you can't do this, or can't do that. And I've had just about enough of it."

Alfred's tenacity brings a grin to Bruce's face. In the midst of all this, he remains the tiger.

"I'm not surrendering old friend, I just can't _find_ a direction, which sometimes is worse than not having one at all. The heart is definitely willing, but the body has failed, leaving the mind in torment."

"You've faced terrible odds before Master Bruce."

"Very true Alfred, but never from a wheel chair. The perspective from here is quite a bit different." Bruce's reply is meant to be flippant, but it doesn't come out that way.

"Yes." Alfred says with a tone of surrender. "I suppose it would be." He pauses briefly before asking his next question. "What will you be telling young master Robin."

"I don't know. I haven't had time to think about that. Call him

please, and tell him…tell him _I_ want to speak to him."

"Straight away master Bruce." Alfred says and turns out of the

room. His footsteps grow distant leaving the man in the wheelchair feeling very, very alone. Once known as, "a man of action" and "The Caped Crusader" now he sits alone literally on the threshold of nothingness, contemplating tomorrow. Three short days ago, _tomorrow_, always connected to some kind of event, affair or accomplishment. Now... He thinks of what he's going to say to Timothy, his newest protégé'. Just a few minutes ago when he told Alfred to call him, just thinking about what he would actually say come easy. "How much harder will the _telling_ be"?

"That's funny," he says. "I've never felt alone in this place before."

He wheels himself back over to the Bat-mobile letting his hand come to rest on the drivers-side door, and 1allows himself to remember. A smile comes to his face as he sees He and Dick jumping into the original Bat-mobile and speeding off into battles he always knew they would win. Those were simpler times, a little corny, but simpler. His thoughts begin to melt together and he finds himself lost in past times, enjoying his triumphs, remembering the taste of victory.

He wheels himself through the cavern not fully aware that he's far from where he started, but comes to him-self in part of the cave that he hasn't seen in many years. He looks up and reads the

marker above the door, "**STORAGE AREA 1**" it reads. Bruce reaches out and enters an entry code on the touch pad he didn't know he remembered. The lock "clicks" and

the door slides open silently. He enters slowly and is immediately bombarded with a flood of memories from when the "Quest" first began. This is the room where he's stored all the original equipment he used to fight crime as The Batman. He scans the room from the doorway, but doesn't enter, not quite sure of his hesitation. But something about this room compels him forward. That alone raises his defenses, makes him resist. There are many things he's learned while being The Batman, "never act without understanding". It's wisdom that has served him well. Still, he senses something in the rear of the cave, a stirring of some kind. He rolls in cautiously, feeling the air around him. It's clear. There's nothing hostile in the room, but _still_, there's something. He rolls over to a lighting control panel on his right and flips the first switch he can reach. A showcase in the middle of the room bursts to life with light. He recognizes the contents from across the room; the equipment from his first utility belt. He flips another switch and it illuminates the original Bat-plane farther back in the room. The third switch reveals more than just the contents of showcase it lights. Bruce freezes and feels the air in his lungs escape, as if he'd been punched, hard. He thumbs the control lever of the chair forward and rolls himself just to within arms-length of the glass that has captured his attention, and just looks at the objects of his past. His eyes fill with tears and his fists clinch tightly. Anger, frustration and helplessness wash over him and boil hot within him, he reads the bold letters of the newspaper headline in the sealed case before him.

"**MILLIONAIRE WAYNE SLAIN**" it reads.

He feels the fear, the panic, the desperation he felt that night. He also feels the helplessness. Forced to watch as his parents were gunned down before his eyes. His father was larger than life to him. A giant of a man in more than just deed and accomplishment. He loved his father, but never really had the chance to enjoy that love. A love cut short on that night. Memories of his parents flood his mind, good memories; Christmas, birthdays, holidays, vacations and camping trips, all that was good and loving, and securing, snatched away violently, ruthlessly.

His eyes pore over the newsprint all the way to the bottom of the page. The reporter who had written the story said, "He felt Wayne's' death could have been avoided if he would have just complied with the gunman's demands". But that's exactly what he _was_ doing. Bruce remembers his father removing his diamond studded-silver cuff links when the man shot him twice. And just like that night all the events that follow do so in ultra slow motion. He sees his father clutch at his chest and the cufflinks spilling from his hand to the ground. Then he thinks of his mother as he sees the handful of loose pearls. They were torn from her necklace as she fell that night. She had been shot four times. Once, the first time she refused to hand over her jewelry. Three more times as she laid pleading for their assailants not to hurt her child. "She was crying too loudly", the man with the gun had said. So he silenced her forever. And last he sees the perfectly preserved roses that serve as a symbol of his parents enduring love. The tears fall from his eyes. How could he have

allowed himself to become so distanced from these symbols that provide him the remembrance of everything he's become.

But then question is answered when the face of his parent's murderer fills his thoughts. Yes, that's why. Bruce had become so engrossed in the capture of thatman, that he has lost touch with the things that really mattered. That man, who has become Batman's most hated enemy in life. Jack Rapier the man who killed his parents. Jack Rapier the man who created The Batman. Jack Rapier the man who became The Joker.

Bruce Wayne's eyes narrow as he reflects on the past, dark deeds of the man he lives to hate. The continued assassination attempts on Commissioner Gordon's' life. The unfortunate patrol officers who have fallen in the line of duty trying to apprehend this criminal, the families of those same officers, and scores of innocent citizens who have lost their lives just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And lastly, his second ward Jason, who was killed trying to defuse a bomb planted by The Joker at the Gotham City Circus. All these lost lives. All the spilled blood. All the pain and death, because of one man. And now it's the same man who's trying to escalate his campaign of fear, extortion and death at the expense of more innocent lives. The man Bruce Wayne dedicated his life to stopping so many years ago but hasn't. Now, from the confines of a wheel chair, it becomes clearer than ever that the cost of his self-imposed quest has been enormous, but not completed.

After everything that has transpired in the last hour Bruce just

now realizes what the covered showcase on his right houses. Again he hesitatates. But at least now he recognizes the "stirring" he felt as he entered this chamber. He understands what it is, and what it wants from him. He wheels himself over to the tall case and pulls off the shroud that covers it. His hand searches along the side of the frame for the light switch. And after a quiet click, the florescent light at its base flickers to life. Braces' head is bowed, his chin on his chest. Before he looks up he takes a deep breath, then, slowly, raises his head to see the essence of _that_ which has become his life.

As soon as his eyes make contact the object before him, he feels it, the beckoning, the intensity, and the purpose. He runs his eyes along the entire length of it. From top to bottom he gazes at it until he becomes lost in its' aura. He feels the chill of different emotions as he the man, comes face to face with the uniformed symbol of everything he's aspired to be. The black and gray specter of himself looms before him seemingly larger than life itself. He studies the yellow and black symbol at the center of its' chest, which has come to embody the very spirit of Truth and Justice. He allows his eyes to climb up to the uniforms hooded cowl. But even though the eye slits are empty Bruce can still feel the determination and dedication he pledged himself to so many years ago. And finally being in the presence of his alter ego Bruce understands why he was hesitant to enter the chamber. Why he was hesitant approach this particular showcase. He felt guilty, guilty for his weaknesses, guilty for his impurities and guilty for his failings. But as he lingers before the enormous version of itself he feels its' spirit beckoning.

Forgiving him for his transgressions and insuring him that **he** is the one. The Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader, **The** Batman. The feeling is overwhelming. And the power that enveloped him once before wells up within him again. He feels a rush of air on the back of his neck, and his body begins to tingle. Anger, pain, frustration and fear erupt from within him and his body grows hot. Then something inside him snaps, and he screams. In pain and out of anguish he screams.

"AAAAGGGGHHHH!"

For long moments his scream reverberates throughout the cavern until finally fading to silence. Alfred hears it from up in the house and follows it back to its source. He walks quickly to the large room with a tray bearing Bruce's dinner. But as he steps through the door the sight he beholds stops him dead in his tracks, and causes him to lose his grip on the tray. It clatters to the highly polished floor sending the food and plates splattering everywhere.

"MASTER BRUCE!" he yells uncontrollably. "YOU"RE STANDING!"

Bruce has yet to open his eyes, and still hasn't realized that he

_is_ standing without aid or support. He coughs and clears his throat but doesn't turn around to look at his concerned friend. He opens his eyes still looking toward the symbol of his rejuvenation. With perfectly sure steps he walks toward his original uniform and opens the case. He places his hand on the

black and yellow chest plate as if to absorb as much of its virtues as he can. Alfred just watches in silence still not knowing the extent of what has occurred. Bruce then reaches up and removes the cowl from its placement lifting it close to his face and saying,

"Yes. I see."

Alfred is taken back a bit. Is Bruce talking to the cowl or himself, either way would be disturbing. But the other thing is his voice. His tone is flat and emotionless, as if from the grave. And Alfred doesn't know what to make of it. The two remain in silence for the next few minutes, but this time when its broken its' Bruce that finds his voice first.

"Alfred". Bruce says in a tone waiting for a reply.

"Yes Master Bruce". Alfred answers.

"Do you remember that question you asks me a few hours ago, about the quest being over?"

"Yes sir I do."

Bruce replaces the cowl and turns toward Alfred bearing such a grimace that if Alfred didn't know the two of them weren't friends he would leave the room.

"Well." Bruce says with renewed determination. "I've changed my mind."

7/24/02


	3. Chapter 3

**Chap. 3-Emergence**

It's been almost five days since Bruce locked himself in the development levels of the Bat Cave. Not even Azrael is aware of his actions there. Wayne handpicked Azrael as an understudy to fill in him while he was injured. Even by the Original Knights standards, he's done an admirable job.

Alfred is concerned. He's had no communication with Bruce since he locked himself in. And there's no sign that he's come out for any reason either. Every time Alfred has brought a fresh meal down on a tray, the one from the previous meal is still sitting there right where it was left, undisturbed. Alfred's in a quandary, Should he use the "override key" and goes in? Or should he wait it out and maintain his faith in Bruce? The decision is difficult. Bruce could have succumbed to his injuries and be lying helpless on the labs floor. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't give it a second thought. But these are far from normal times. Despite Bruce's determination, the stress he's under must be tremendous. He knows that every hour he delays; another innocent life may be lost. Alfred takes a deep breath and pulls the key card from his vest pocket. He readies himself to swipe the card through the slot but stops at the last second. "Master Bruce is extremely capable and resourceful. I can't remember the time that he failed at accomplishing anything he set his mind to doing. I'll wait at least until this evening". The elder manservant nods his head as if to agree again with his decision as a second thought, then pockets the plastic key card and turns to pick up the tray from the previous meal. Then as if on perfect cue the door to the lab unlocks with a soft "CLICK".

Alfred turns just in time to see the "LOCKED" indicator light go off and the door begin to slide open. He turns with the tray still in hand and faces a standing Bruce Wayne.

"Master Bruce" Alfred says in a relieved tone, "I've been very worried. Why, I almost..."

"I'm alright Alfred" Bruce says stopping his manservant in mid sentence

Instinctively Alfred starts toward Bruce to lend him a shoulder, but stops himself when a raised hand fends him off. Alfred knows the gesture doesn't mean Wayne doesn't want help, but that he can't be helped. Whatever he does from this point on he'll have to do by himself, regardless of the pain, the difficulty, or the consequence. And all that will have to begin right now, starting with these first few steps.

As Bruce makes is way through the doorway Alfred notices a cane in his right hand. His movements are stiff and measured and look almost painful, but still any offering of help would flatly refused. Bruce moves past him into the elevator without looking to either side, but Alfred remains where he is still very much showing the surprise of Bruce's' sudden emergence on his face.

The elevator quietly starts its way up toward the mansions second floor. Normally, there is always some kind of conversation between these two old friends, but tonight things are very different. Bruce is aloof and withdrawn. Nothing like his usual self, it seems like he's actually someone else. He's harsh, stoic and frightening. It's hard for the old man to believe that the man standing next to really is the same jovial, charitable Bruce Wayne. . No wonder, these last few days have been harder than any Alfred can remember, ever. Alfred steals a quick glance at Bruce's' face, he looks ragged and hard, and his eyes look large and black like a sharks. Exhausted as he is, Alfred can see that ravaging fire is burning within Bruce's' heart. He **is** The Dark Knight again, and he'll soon be on the hunt. The Joker is his prey and Gotham is the cage. All the others,...their just minnows. Once the frenzy begins, they'll never know what hit them.

The elevator reaches the second floor coming to a smooth stop. Alfred steps off, but Bruce stays where he is.

The elder man turns uncertainly and asks, "Is there a problem sir?'

"No" Bruce replies flatly. "I'll be going out tonight".

Alfred thinks nothing of the comment and asks, "What time shall I have the car around?"

"As Batman!" Bruce corrects.

This revelation startles Alfred visibly. It was fatigue and oversight that resulted in his defeat to Bane. Bruce can't be thinking correctly.

"Are you sure you're up to it sir. You don't look nearly rested enough".

But Bruce doesn't even give answer to Alfred's' question.

"Be in the Testing Room at twelve". He says. "I'll brief you on the new monitoring equipment". Then without another word steps off the elevator and disappears into his room.

Alfred stands there for a few moments then just lets out a heavy exhale. He wonders if this Final Quest of Batman's' hasn't already claimed its' first victim.

At twelve o'clock the ever-faithful Alfred finds himself standing in front of the Testing Room door as Bruce requested. He finds himself just a bit apprehensive, as he has no idea what he'll find inside. But before he's actually ready to enter the door slides open his only option is to enter.

The room is dark, illuminated dimly by scores of indicator lights, computer monitors and test equipment, with the occasional white test lights used for intricate component construction. At first making out anything in the room is difficult until his eyes adjust to the rooms foreboding lack of light. Once they do the sight he see's is Bruce walking and moving briskly and steadily, as if he had never been injured. In that regard he seems his same old self. But even in the darkness Alfred can make out a scowl on his face that is _not_ normal. Bruce always did focus himself intensely before going out on patrol or answering a call from the commissioner. It was part of the way he readied himself for whatever he may encounter while in the field, but this expression is different; he looks angry, and revengeful. In all the years he's known Bruce he's never seen him in such a way. "This isn't the Bruce Wayne I know". He thinks.

And what Bruce is wearing is foreign to Alfred eyes as well. From head to foot he's covered in a black body suit that has a series of two-inch square modules running the length of his arms, and legs. His back and chest are armored, and padded. And from the look of pieces of armored exoskeleton laying in the molded case, this may not be the same Batman he knew either.

Bruce is so focused he hardly notices Alfred's' entrance into the room. He's busy making the final adjustments to the new suit that he's fashioned to aid him in his end quest. He stands at a worktable entering in the higher frequency ranges of his greatly modified headpiece of the "battle suit". With the processor and frequency chips in place, he secures the cover, then applies an epoxy of his own design which will bond the components cover to the head piece with a permanent, seamless, water tight fit.

"There". He says, "It's complete"! and disappears into the adjacent room with the headpiece in hand. He returns only momentarily to wheel away the diagnostic rack holding the "battle suit" pieces as well. Alfred's first inclination is to follow and assist Bruce in donning the suit, but Bruce's' voice stops him where is.

"Alfred!' he calls. "I'll need you to monitor the chemical mixtures in the condensing units behind you".

Alfred whirls around to locate the tanks of Bruce's description.

"They can't be allowed to evaporate below the indicated levels. It's extremely vital". He finishes.

The whole time Bruce is talking Alfred hears a series of different sounds coming from the other room. Clicks! Hisses! Snaps! and Beeps! There's the hiss of an airline, a final click, then a shrill tone like a camera battery recharging after a flash, then silence. Alfred faces the doorway between the two rooms anxiously, not knowing what to expect. What emerges simply takes his breath away. He's never seen anything like this before, except maybe in comic books. From head to toe it's black, cowl, cape and uniform. from Bruce has designed a form-fitting, armored exoskeleton, equipped with miniature hydraulic actuators, to increase strength, electronic muscle accentuators to enhance speed, reflexes and agility. A bevy of offensive and defensive chemical and high-tech weaponry: increased communications and lighting; a self-contained oxygen supply, with an onboard filtering system. A full-faced high impact resistant headpiece. Not mention the usual Bat-Gear and a handful of conventional weapons; such as a collapsible-two sectional staff, high voltage electric bolas and a.....gun!

"Master Bruce!" Alfred exclaims. "A firearm!"

"Its' necessary Alfred" Bruce replies. "Starting tonight each confrontation I have will be final. I'm not looking to make arrests or take prisoners. This quest is about fulfilling a vow. Gotham _will_ be freed of the crime that terrorizes its' streets and plagues it's citizens. This is a seek and destroy mission, there are no rules of engagement, except: survive each battle to get to the next. Besides, my repellor lines will need a deeper anchor to support the added weight of my new armor, the 44 magnum cartridge will easily supply the surface penetration necessary for steel or concrete walls".

"Oh, I see" Alfred concedes, though not at all convinced with Bruce's' explanation. The older man just watches as Bruce Wayne dons the uniform and symbols that for over twenty years now have transformed him into Batman, The Dark Knight. Those same symbols that helped him become a feared legend to some, and a sacred myth to others, but always he has donned them on the side of right and reason. Tonight though the old man wonders if the same will be said of _this_ Dark Knight tomorrow.

While suiting up Bruce can't help but notice the deep concern on his old friends face and knows he has to say something to help Alfred understand why he has chosen this route to

"Alfred, old friend" he starts, "I know you don't approve of my direction in this matter, but I've made these choices because I see no other means to avert the threat that is coming to Gotham's citizens. After my fight with Bane many things became crystal clear to me. One of which was, I can't do this forever, and if I don't do this now while I still can there are no promises to say that I'll get another chance. So it's now, or perhaps never. And who could tell how many innocent lives indecision like that might cost?"

Alfred had just been looking down while Bruce was talking. And as hard as it is to accept he knows, in his heart, that Bruce is right on this matter. After a few seconds he nods his head in agreement, lets out a sigh, and says,

"What would you have me to do sir?"

"Just be yourself old friend" Bruce ends, and goes back to preparing for the night.

Alfred hadn't realized it before, but while Bruce was talking to him his tone had softened, he had been back to normal. It was, to say the least, reassuring. Alfred could again rest in his confidence of the man he has known and trusted for so many years. He knows war changes men, and considering the magnitude of the conflict this man is about to embark upon, Alfred understands why Bruce's countenance and tone have become so sullen and dark, and decides right then and there to forgive him in advance for anything and everything he may be forced to do.

The harsh metallic snaps of Bruce loading rounds into the magazine of his _44. auto-mag._ separate Alfred from his thoughts and back to the reality at hand. Fifteen rounds. He slams it into the gun, and then snaps it into the shoulder holster hanging beneath his left arm. That done, he reaches for his cape and attaches it to the several magnetic keepers that run along his collar and shoulders, with that he's ready.

Alfred stands back in awe. This visage of the New Dark Knight is ominous and lethal even in just its' appearance.

"If I saw you on a darkened street,..." Alfred pauses with a shudder, then finishes, "I'd give up the ghost right there on the spot".

Bruce doesn't answer; he just flexes his right arm, then his left. Shrugs up his shoulders testing the fit, then lifts his legs one after the other to be sure there's no binding.

"How does it feel sir?" Alfred asks.

Then already back in his war-prep mode he turns, and with dark dead eyes and in a voice that sounds like it's coming from the grave he speaks only three words,

"Don't wait up!"

then is gone.

7/31/02


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4-Death Quest; The Croc **

"**B**eing out and active again feels good" Bruce thinks to himself. The broken white lines on the roadway flash past so fast they appear to be solid. He's nestled comfortably in the cockpit of the Bat-Mobile and driving so fast that it reminds him of his racing days on the IMSA Racing circuit. He was younger, more reckless than he is now, and had gads of time to waste. Plus the fact that he was twenty-nine, inter-nationally known and a billionaire helped him to get a berth with a competitive racing team. Being wealthy does have a few perks after all. "Those were the days" he thinks, then manages just the slightest of smiles.

A sign post quickly rises up out of the darkness.

**GOTHAM CITY **-** 8 MILES**,it reads. And like a switch being thrown he flips to his hunter mode. He lifts his eyes and scans the sky; it's clear and cold, with very little wind. A good night to hunt. Scents will be laying low and somewhat easy to follow, finding him shouldn't be that much trouble.

The Dark Knight checks through the new suits internal systems once again. It's functioning perfectly, but you can never be **too** sure.

Hydraulics: Check.

Surveillance: Check.

Life Support: Check.

Tracking and Visual Modes: Check.

Communications: Check.

Electronics: Check.

and On Board Weapons: Check.

All systems are up running at optimum levels. He's especially pleased with the Electronic circuitry. After all **it** is the reason he's been able to get back in the suit. The ni-cad batteries on his black body suit are delivering a constant current making everything else possible. Not to mention that they're supplying the power to the nerve stimulator pack to the injury on his back. If the electronics were to fail he'd be in serious trouble. One thing _is_ bothering him though, he feels "good", "very good" and that scares him. For the first time in his crime fighting career he's on a mission to deliver death to one of his foes, and "he feels good". "How should he feel though" he wonders. But since no answer comes to mind, he keeps driving.

The sewers of Gotham are a virtual maze running deep and for miles. They're also dark and nasty. Atrocities occur down here everyday that few ever hear of. But not anymore, not after tonight.

It's said, that on a clear night a bat can smell blood from over three miles away. Tonight is a _very_ clear night. But one would have to be blind as a bat _not_ to be able to follow the trail left by **this** prey. It's sickening, body parts and bits of flesh strewn about. He stops to examine an article of clothing and a piece of jewelry.

"Yes, it's her". He thinks. A young co-ed form Gotham-U was abducted two nights ago. He thought it was him, but until now

wasn't able to do anything about it, that's why he made him the first on the list.

"Another reason to take him down". Batman thinks. He flips through several visual modes looking for further evidences but finds none. Finally, he phases through his surveillance frequencies listening further and further through the tunnels. Finally a noise in the distance gives him a target. He moves ahead angrily but with restraint.

After several minutes he finds him, about sixty feet further down the tunnel. The prey has no idea he's been found. With all the noise he's making it's obvious that he doesn't really care if he's found or not. And that angers The Knight all the more. He moves ahead silently until he's within about twelve feet. There's a light hanging just over the preys' head, "that will make things easier". The Knight watches him for a while, accessing, he's crouched, facing the corner of this small area gnawing on what looks to be the remnants of a human arm. "

There doesn't appear to be much of his humanity left". The Knight thinks. "He's simply vermin now, and has to be stopped". Batman steps down to the shallow walkway, just out of the throw of the light. The prey hears him but doesn't turn around.

"Over confidence" Batman thinks.

In his guttural voice, and with his mouth half full of flesh,

"Hmmph, more food". the prey says.

The Knight steps closer but not fully into the light, "No, Not this time". He replies.

The prey recognizes the voice immediately and whirls around. "You!" he growls. Killer Croc! Now standing fully erect just ten feet away. He's a good six feet, seven inches tall, at least four hundred pounds, leathery tough skin from head to toe, and a tail with length to match his massive size. He reaches up and swings the light toward The Knight, illuminating him from the waist down.

"We can finish this game tonight" The Croc says.

"That's exactly why I'm here". The Knight replies. "It's not a game anymore. I'm here to end this, permanently".

"HA! HA! HA! Yeah right, permanently" Croc answers, mocking The Knight. Then without warning he crouches again, and lets out a bestial growl. The Knight counters by raising his hand,...the one with the gun in it.

**BLAM! ** The first shot takes out the swinging light plunging the tunnel into total darkness. Advantage Dark Knight. The rest of the rounds? **BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! **one doesn't need the light to know they found their mark!

**Epilogue**: It's four-thirty in the morning. The hunt was successful. And the drive back to the Bat-Cave satisfying. But the question is still on his mind. "How should he feel"? He's just killed a man; taken a life! But no,...he re-thinks, he's just erased a

murderous sickness from society, and tonight he feels good. But

how will he feel tomorrow? Next week? or next month? The thoughts swirl around in his mind. But he decides he can't let any of that matter right now, because after all is said and done,...he hunts again tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chap.5-Azrael**

**T**he Knight stands over a worktable thinking over the events of the last nights hunt. The suit performed as designed, that was expected. But then again Bruce's' standards have always been high, almost unattainably high. He's never trusted anyone to design or fabricate his weapons or equipment; _he_ designs and engineers everything he uses. And he's never satisfied with his equipment even when it "performs as designed". Even now, he's re-inspecting the circuitry for the neural-netting harness he incorporated into the inner portion of his suit. The harness is designed to by-pass the injured portion of his spine allowing him to return to his alter ego as the Batman. Bruce is aware that this injury very well could be his undoing. No amount of artificial assistance will be able to stave off the eventual affects of the arthritis or the calcification that will affect the injury site. However all that is an eventuality. If everything continues to go as planned this quest will be over long before that.

His thoughts are interrupted by a presence moving his way from the rear of the cave. No move is made identify whether he has an intruder or not, he simply extends his senses and feels the area around him. There is someone there, but no one to be considered an enemy, yet. Bruce just continues his checks and just waits. After a few moments, a figure steps out of the darkness...Azrael!

Like the "True Knight" Azrael isn't one to waste time with pleasantries.

"I know it was you that took out the Croc". He says, "I'd know your M.O. at any level of extreme. So I backtracked your trail before the police arrived, and noticed that you stopped to gather evidence on his last kill before you put him down. I know your moves Bruce, you'll never change".

There's a bit of cockiness in the youthful Knights tone. It's a trait Bruce

actually likes in him. Exuberance properly channeled can become confidence.

Mentoring Azrael was Bruce's plan, but unforeseen circumstances denied him the opportunity. Now, his over zealousness just causes him to make mistakes. No matter, the world at large is still just a classroom for these two, and Bruce will set the student straight away.

"You're wrong" Batman snaps. "I stopped to confirm the young girl's identity. There was a family out there uncertain of their little girl's fate. By taking the time to confirm, I was able to bring that family closure". Bruce's' tone is instructive and somewhat cold, but nonetheless clearly serves its' purpose. Azrael immediately recognizes Batman's correction, and concedes his error with silence. Bruce just keeps working still never having turned to face his young protégé. The silence between the two men grows almost as cavernous as the Bat Cave itself and an uneasy silence settles in between the two. For reasons known only to themselves these two men have become estranged, allowing their differences to become animosities. A confrontation becomes inevitable, the only question is, what happens when two irresistible forces meet? That proposed theory has plagued the science community for decades, and may well be given an answer here in the Bat Cave tonight.

Azrael, true to his character of being the first to enter into a fight starts. "I'm aware you haven't approved of some of the method and tactics I've employed since taking over for you as The Batman. Bruce I just want you to know that I'm not trying to erase your memory, or replace you in the hearts of the people of Gotham. But when you asked me to fill in for you as Batman, the prognosis of your recovery was not encouraging. At best, it was felt that you would have an _extended_ rehabilitation period. So when I first started, I tried to be the Batman that you were, the one everyone knew, the one everyone depended one, and that was worked,…for a while. But being _you_ quickly started to become more and more difficult, but even still I continued to play the part until I began to lose sight of who I was. So, I began to change things, little things at first, but changes that allowed me to play the role with a degree of comfort, but still portray the character that you established. But then, the changes became more noticeable. People began to see the differences in my actions and began asking questions, especially Gordon, so curtailed all public visibility, I even stopped responding to The Commissioners signal. I began operating only from the shadows hoping to preserve your Dark Knights identity, as well as you anonymity. I've never meant you any disrespect. But I'm not Bruce Wayne, I'm Azrael. And there is no way our two interpretations of The Batman could be the same."

The younger Dark Knight pauses waiting for some type of reaction or comment from Bruce, but none comes. He just continues working on the harness, seemingly not paying Azrael any attention at all. And Azrael, not being one who is easily bruised simply continues.

"My purpose for coming here tonight was to tell you that I'm glad you're back, relieved actually. I won't have to pretend any more, I can just be myself. I also wanted to express my concerns. I know The Croc was just the first on your list; you'll be going after Gothams' worst. The thing is they know you're coming. And not even you have attempted to run a gauntlet as deadly as this before, no one has,...not alone anyway."

But before Azrael can get to his next sentence Bruce interrupts with a single, emphatic word,

"**No!"**

The quick rejection catches Azrael off guard. He honestly didn't expect to have his offer cast aside.

"But Bruce..." he starts, but is cut off again.

"**No**!"

This time he stops and accepts the elder Knights.

"By your wish." he says. He turns to leave but stops to drop one more comment.

"I'll be out and about. If we should happen upon the same target or place, I will yield the right of way. And if you should ever need assistance, I'll be close by. Good luck Batman."

And as quietly as he appeared, he is gone. Batman is continues to work, still

having never turned to see the young Knight come or go. But he thinks on Azrael's' words feeling he had spoken truthfully on all that he said. Bruce always knew that no disrespect was intended, but it's difficult to watch someone take over your life's' work, change it, and **not** have an opinion about it. "He's a strong young man". He thinks. "He'll be the perfect Dark Knight some day". A day that may come sooner than either of the two may know. But for now Bruce manages just the slightest of smiles at the thought of Azrael's comments of "concern", and actually appreciates the sentiment.

"No" he says softly, "_not_ an enemy".


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 7-Face Off**

Batman caught the whole of tonight's hunt off guard. They were very involved in a meeting of the minds so to speak, so it was relatively easy for him to take down the few guards that were posted and plant his devices where they could do the most damage. The Knight had anticipated heavy resistance just to get close to this location, but obviously he over estimated the sophistication and preparedness of the preys' organization, which is a surprise, given his former office.

**KA-BOOM!**

The first two floors of the building are instantly involved in flames and gas making escape impossible. He makes it to his rooftop position just as the incendiary devices on the third go off, causing the old factory to shudder and moan, an alert to anyone still alive inside that a collapse of the factory would be total and imminent. The prey had been using this place as a headquarters largely because of its secluded location. This use to be part of the old textile district; the seaports of Gotham once played a integral role in the countries import/export industry because of their location along the Atlantic coast. The was once a heavily trafficked area, the streets lined with factories, mills and warehouses, but now it hardly sees any business at all. A perfect area for criminals to gather, nest and do their dirt. But not anymore. A thick choking smoke bellows up at the front and along the sides of the building as planned. The Knight lined all the lower windows and doors with devices causing all avenues of escape or cover to be either blocked off by debris or destroyed by fire. The only way out now is to the rear and up to the roof, where the path leads straight to him. And the Knight made sure that the only one using the remaining fire escape

would be **him**.

It shouldn't be too much longer now, the devices for the fourth floor have only two minutes left on their timers, but before they go off even Batman will have to have found a safer place to be, or risk the same fate as the nights hunted.

He comes! Batman hears him coughing and stumbling his way up the stairs. By the sounds of it, he must have inhaled a lung full of smoke or gas before he got clear of the lower levels. It doesn't matter though, this will be over soon. The Knight listens as the prey makes his way to the rooftop door. He tries it but it appears to be stuck, so, KICK! KICK! **KICK! **The door swings open with a loud bang. Thick belches of black smoke bellow upward from the whole of the open doorway, looking almost like a portal to hell, possibly an omen of where the prey would soon be on his way to. Finally he staggers drunkenly out of the smoke; blackened and singed, he drops to his knees smashing a oxygen mask to his face that he obviously found too late. He sucks in a few frantic gulps of clean air, then discards the mask and starts to stand and look around. He scans toward the front of the burning building and quickly decides that there is no safe avenue of escape in that direction.

"Damn you! Damn you! Damn you! Damn you, Batman!" he curses, jumping up and down, and stomping, like a child throwing a **way**

out of control tantrum. He kicks at the penny-sized rocks that

make up the roofs covering sending a dozen or so of the rocks

flying back into the doorway he just emerged from. Then suddenly he just stops, and stands there for a few seconds with his back to the Dark Knight trying to think of a way of escape,

then strikes a pose like a magnificent just came to his mind. He turns to put his fantastic idea into motion but instantly locks eyes with his pursuer, who just a second ago, was the recipient of his curse filled triad , Batman.

"Hello Harvey". The Knight says calmly. "Having a bit of trouble?"

Harvey Dent; a.k.a., Two-Face, one of the new breed of Crime Lords besieging Gotham City, with his flamboyant, over the top style of criminality. At one time, not too very long ago, the two men were very good friends, Bruce Wayne; Billionaire, Business Mogul and Philanthropist; friend to whole of Gotham at large. And Harvey Dent, Gothams' not quite as rich, but equally debonair and swashbuckling District Attorney, who once vowed as Wayne, "to clean out Gothams crime lords, making the city safe for its' law abiding citizens". But that seems an eternity ago, at least two years and several hundred crimes past. It was an unfortunate accident that brought Dent to his current condition. He was caught in an explosion where he suffered life-threatening burns to fifty percent of his body: his entire left side. Several tanks of dangerously toxic chemicals were ruptured by the blasts, Dent was caught in the mixture of those chemicals which permeated his already damaged skin and added to the horrendous disfigurement he suffered. The result; Dent emerged with the new identity of Two Face - a progressive transformation into the homicidal psychopathic criminal, with a deeply rooted schizophrenia and promptly embarked upon his campaign of crime.

Since then, Batman has made countless to help Dent, capturing him and sending him to the best of Doctors and facilities, trying anything and everything to find a cure, and return Harvey to the man he once he once was. But to date nothing has worked,

bringing them to this day. Batman is here no longer seeking a manor of rehabilitating his one time friend, just a way to end his sufferings.

Meanwhile Two-Face is beside himself.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a minute to catch your breath" he adds.

The Knights cool demeanor and casual greeting sends the prey over the top. He emits a series of unintelligible sounds then suddenly produces a gun from the small of his back and begins firing wildly. The Knight makes no move for cover. He just remains in place facing Two-Face straight on. The first round bounces off Batman's left shin, the next off his left hip. One hits him center mass and fragments into a dozen pieces, and the last ricochets off his shoulder, the rest…who knows. This was one of the reasons Batman choose to bring the fight to his foes down here on the docks. There are no innocents to be concerned for. Debris from explosions and errant rounds don't have be a concern, he can focus his attention wholly on his targets and be as deadly efficient as necessary.

Two-Face continues to pull the trigger of his revolver well after it's emptied, after which, for some reason, he throws it. Reminiscent of a pitcher who threw out his arm long ago, the

Silver Western Style Six Shooter sails well over the Knights head and in to the early morning darkness. As soon as he sees it miss his hand dives into his pocket and comes out with a palm size radio. He cups it to his mouth and immediately starts yelling, "On

the roof! On the roof! Everybody, Batman's on the Roof!" But the

Knight doesn't allow his foe the torture of waiting for a reply

that isn't coming

"They can't hear you Harvey. There's no one left except you and I. It's over". His tone is flat, not emotionless, just final.

Harvey looks around the roof as if he's hoping someone, anyone would still come to his rescue, but no one comes. Then it finally dawns on him, there's nothing there except silence. No more yelling. No more screams. No more gun fire, just the sound of the building beneath him burning; the sound of his end.

"Harvey". Batman says, "It's done".

Two-Face drops the radio to the ground and starts walking toward the Dark Knight, who throughout the whole ordeal has not moved from his perch on the buildings edge.

"Why Batman. Why are you doing this to me? Haven't we always been friends? Haven't we always found ways to work our problems without... hurting each other? Can't we find a way to work things out now? I mean can't we just both...get along. PLEEZZE!" Even staring death literally in the face Harvey's' psychosis pulls him into a state of delusion. Two-Face stops about ten feet from where Batman stands and puts his hands out in a pleading manner. The Knight stares down at his one time friend

and is more convinced than ever,

"This needs to end here. Listen to yourself Harvey, you're mad.

I've always tried to help you in the past, but I know that isn't

possible now. You've become a monster, and what's worse, you

like what you've become. You revel in the terror you spread...".

But Two-Face interrupts the Knight in mid sentence, both his hands now clasps over his heart, and stooping to one knee on the ground.

"No Batman that's not true. I'm a victim of a terrible accident; you know that better than anybody. I don't like doing the things I do. I don't like being a criminal, I just can't help myself. Until that accident I never broke one law, not one! And, I am not a monster, I resent that remark. I just need help" Harvey's' tone **is** sorrowful. To anyone else his pleadings might have been convincing, but to the Dark Knight it's a refrain that he's heard too many times. He knows Two-Face would like nothing more than to find the safe walls of Arkham again where he could re-formulate his schemes in relative comfort and security. With his organization gone and his resources destroyed, he's got nothing, and no defenses.

Dent is now on both knees kneeling before Batman. From a distance it must look like he's praying, paying homage to some dark horned Bat-God for favor. .........but he'll get no favor here.

Batman looks up to see flames licking their way through the smoke still bellowing up the stairway. He knows it's time. The

game must end now!

'That was a very good performance Harvey, but the people of

Gotham are tired of the terror you spread. And so am I. It ends

now!" There is a dark tone to Batman's words; a deathly tone.

Two-Face hears it too. He's never heard the Knight sound like this and it changes his expression immediately.

"Wait Batman, I'm serious. I really do want to change, I really want help"

But the Knight isn't deterred by Two-Faces' new found sincerity, he draws his weapon from its' holster though still concealing it beneath his cape. Dent realizes the gravity of the situation after seeing the Knights weapon, and begin sobbing and toss himself wildly on the ground. Batman knows this is just an attempt to sway him from his course and gain his sympathy. But all Dent really accomplishes is convincing the Knight that he is about to do the right thing. Over the years Batman made a small crusade of trying to help Harvey become the man he once was, sending him to just about every credible psychiatrist and facility he could find in the book, and then a few, lesser-known, clinics well off the beaten path. But after all the rehabs, treatments and medicines, nothing helped. At first, the doctors couldn't understand why Harvey's' condition remain unchanged. But after years of analysis all the doctors came to the same conclusion. Harvey can't be helped because he enjoys being his, out of control, alter ego. He embraces his madness, and thrives on the mayhem he creates. **It** has become who he is now! And that's why Batman **must** do this. Harvey will never recover; he will always be Two -Face. And that means he will always be a threat to the

people of Gotham, and that Batman can no longer allow. Despite everything Harvey once was, now he's become just another rabid animal that needs to be put down.

Harvey is still on his knees, but his ranting has become wild and

unpredictable. The Dark Knight looks at his misshapen form and

sees no semblance of the man he knew, then decides immediately,

Now! Without hesitation he raises the gun toward Dent and fires a single round. The bullet strikes him squarely at the cleft of his lip, just below his nose, scrapping the roof of his mouth as it passes, just before exploding into his cerebellum at the base of his brain. Death is instant. He never felt any pain.

As The Death-Knight holsters his weapon as the last explosives detonate signaling the necessity of a hasty retreat. He looks down at the lifeless body of this former friend. And a voice from deep within his conscious whispers, "Bruce, What have you done!" But without hesitation he has a reply, "I've saved innocent lives!" And for that moment, his answer is sufficient.

He turns and locks his glider wings into place just as the building shudders and lightly begins to sag. He leans over the side trusting the air to catch him and fill his wings. As he drifts quietly away there is no remorse in his thoughts.

Prologue:

Two-Faces' tenure in Gotham is over. That's one less threat, one less criminal master mind to confront." But even though this quest has caused him to become the Death-Knight, beneath the cape and cowl he is still a man, and he _is_ still a man with a heart.

What he did tonight no man should ever be required to do,

regardless of his convictions. Tonight he took the life of a man he once called his friend, and in the doing he knows he can never be the same. Unfortunately, he can have no time to even consider the comforting release of remorse, for tonight he hunts again; tonight he'll face the man called **Clayface!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – NightWing**

**I**ts early morning, there's a light snow falling, Gotham City is asleep. _This_ is the city he loves; no screams, no sirens or sounds of distress. _This_ is what he owes to the citizens of Gotham; a place where it's safe to live, and work, and raise a family, where its people can walk the streets without being terrorized by thugs or madmen. His mind travels back to _that_ night and to the events that happened to him and his parents. Those things should have never happened; there should have been a Batman then to save them. But that's just a child's wish, the one he's wished a thousand times before. But there was no Batman, no Dark-Knight. That night was pre-ordained for him and him alone. It was his destiny to be called through the terror and fear to become the Caped Crusader, to become Gothams' savior. He answered that call. And as long as he is here as Gothams' avenging guardian, a night like that will never happen again.

But this is not a time for reminiscing and wishes; he is yet on a mission. There is business to attend to tonight.

Batman is the first to reach the prearranged meeting place. Before he set out to meet Two-Face he made two calls, both of whom should be arriving shortly.

From just off his right shoulder Batman notices a slight shift in the shadows about a hundred feet away. And with his enhanced

hearing sensors catches the sound of something moving very fast through the air. They're here. He pulls his cape around his shoulders and waits.

Timothy Brand, Batman's' third ward as Robin, The Boy Wonder, makes his presence known first.

"I got your message Batman, what's up"? He asks. His voice is always filled with a youthful exuberance. Even though he's almost seventeen there's still such innocence to his character. Bruce likes that. It reminds him of what _he_ never got a chance to be. He doesn't turn to face Robin, he just holds up his hand. "Hold on" he says flatly. "I'm waiting for one more to arrive. He should be here any time now". And instantly, as if on cue, a voice from above says

"I'm here. Why'd you call"? The voice says. His tone almost as flat as the Knights and is more of a demand to know than it is a question. Nightwing! Formerly known as Robin, The Boy Wonder. He was the first of the Dark Knight's protégé's. His given name is Dick Grayson, and he hasn't been around these parts for several years. At one time the two were extremely close, almost inseparable, but began having issues when Dick began thinking about college. Bruce encouraged private study. Their differences widened from there, concerning almost everything. Dick ended up leaving when he turned twenty-five. He's only been back twice since then, and neither of though visits were what one might call "Kodak moments".

"You're late" the Knight barks back.

"There's a large building on fire in the old garment district, on the eastside. I stopped to see if I could help. I'd have thought you'd have known about it". Nightwings' voice is full of contest and sarcasm. It's very evident little love has been lost here...

"But I do know about it" Batman says. "I started it!"

At first neither of the two Male Wonders catches the last of Batman's comment. Then all of a sudden it hits both of them.

"What!" NightWing says.

"What!" Robin echoes. "But why'd you..." but before the young crusader can finish his question he gets cut off by his self exiled senior." Shut up kid!"

NightWing stands frozen, not believing the words he just heard. "You did what? He asks.

"I said I started it. I took out Two-Face earlier this morning. I used the fire to erase his memory".

"I can't believe I'm hearing what you're saying. Are you telling me that you killed Harvey Dent tonight?"

"You used to be a quicker study in the old days, perhaps New York doesn't agree with you as much as you think." Batman says. The Knights sarcastic response visibly irks Nightwing. And the fact that there is a pre existing tension between the two does

nothing help the matter.

Mean while, Robin looks on from about ten feet away, he's noticed something different about Batman. He looks bigger, more muscular under his cape. But from the back, and in the darkness, it's hard to tell. He does seem distant and he's a lot colder than usual, but Bruce always has had mood swings so that's' not really too much to go on either. But he just said he _killed_ Two-Face, now, _that_ would be a change even for him." Robin decides to play the fly on the wall and just listen...

Batman's' statement has Nightwing wound up, and even though Robin is only seventeen he can see that he isn't going to just be able to stay on the sidelines, things look like they could get nasty and he might have to so something drastic. Not a thought he relishes, but might be necessary.

"Don't avoid the question!" Nightwing barks. "Are you saying that you killed Two-Face and started a fire to conceal evidence?"

"Yes and no" Batman answers calmly. "Yes, I killed Harvey Dent tonight, but No, I didn't set the fire to hide anything. I used explosives and the fire to destroy his records, drugs, weapons and anything else that anyone might be tempted to use to try to pick up where he left off". Batman turns and faces Nightwing now, and in doing his cape flies open a little revealing his new armor. The sight shocks both Robin and Nightwing.

"Whoa!" Robin says. "That's' new".

NightWing looks over at his junior replacement as if to say "shut up" again doesn't, the look is all he needs. Robin stops and motions him a sheepish concession. Nightwing takes a breath himself, noting that things have obviously changed. Despite the differences between He and Bruce this situation is not what he expected. Just tell me this," Why" his question starts him in motion stepping toward Batman. "And I suppose it was you that took out Riddler and Killer Croc too. **I** thought it was Azreal; stories were you were flat on your back; no one knew you were O.K."

Batman has stood silent through everything NightWing has said until he got to the "you were O.K." part. The words make their way straight to the small of his back reminding him of the pain, frustration and anger. He snaps.

"I'm not O.K.!" He words are hard and pointed. "Bane left me lying in a pool of muddy water and blood, thinking I was dead. I thought was dead too until Alfred found me and dragged me back to the manor. I was paralyzed from the waist down, and then found out that The Joker killed Riddler. I'm sure even you can remember why".

Nightwing instantly leans foreword. "Are you certain it was The Joker?"

Is Bullwinkle a moose?" Robin chimes in trying to come to Batman's aid. But this time it's the Knight that motions him back.

"I'm positive. But Riddler wasn't his first; he was just the most notable. Joker is starting his final play and I was out of action. His move is what got me back on my feet again". Batman pauses and takes a breath. He glances over his shoulder toward the city then back at Nightwing and Robin. "When I originally became The Batman my intentions were to rid Gotham of criminals like the Joker. I haven't, and over the years hundreds of innocent people have been hurt, even killed. That blood is on my hands and now The Joker plans to extend his dominion in Gotham. And the way he's going to do it is to kill every other crime lord in the city. That means people are going to die. And if he isn't stopped most of those will be innocent people."

Nightwing takes a few seconds and lets Batman's words sink in. A crime war in Gotham City, not a thought even a way word son would wish upon his former adopted home town. "Then why not just stop the Joker?" he asks. "You don't have the right to kill others just because you don't have an effective plan."

"Yes I do." The Knight flashes back. "Tonight Two-Face called his whole organization together. He also invited the heads of local gangs, drug dealers and weapons suppliers. His plan was to build an alliance with them to counter the Jokers threat. There was no way in hell I was going to stand by and wait for them to start a war in my city."

"Wait, you mean you killed all the men in that building. How many?"

"I don't know. He had a small army present, I didn't stop to count". Batman's response is remorseless

NightWing stares back at the man that just uttered the words in pure amazement. He can't believe the man _he_ knows just spoke them. Bruce Wayne, The Caped Crusader, A.K.A, The Batman, had been his mentor and friend for most of his young life. And even though they came to a point of disagreement he's never known the man speak as he just did. He's always been dedicated to Law and Order, and always found ways within the workings of the system to effectively be a Crusader for Justice. Obviously, times change, and evidently, so do people. NightWing takes a deep breath and drops his chin to his chest. His mouth opens to speak but stops and looks over toward Batman's new ward Timothy. Memories flash through his mind, scenes of He and Batman speeding into the night to fight crime. The Battles they fought, and won. The obstacles they faced and overcame; though all the time learning. It seemed that no matter what they faced or how hopeless the situation may have seemed, together they always found a way to overcome whatever adversity faced them. But remembering these things is what makes it so hard for Nightwing to accept the words he just heard coming from the Dark Knight. Bruce was never one to stop trying. He would never even entertain thoughts of quitting or giving up. It just wasn't his way. So what changed? What force on earth, or set of events could stop Bruce Wayne from being The Batman? NightWing knew there were questions he is going to have to ask, but isn't sure if he was going to be ready for the answers he might get back. Facing unpleasant situations is something he learned to deal with long

time ago,…from Bruce.

So what else are you willing to do? Are you willing to kill others in the name of your _justice_? And what happened to your trust in the Justice System that everyone else is bound by? Why do **you** get to take the law into your hands, and no one else? What makes you so special? At what point do we all get to appoint ourselves judges and executioners and start meting out our own self-righteous forms of justice? Tell me that Batman. When can **I** start killing people because I'm tired of waiting for the Justice system to do what I think is right? Tell me that Batman. Please tell me why you're so special."

The sarcasm in NightWing's voice is purposely evident. It's harsh and in Batman's face. And though it may have been coincidental while he was talking NightWing ends up over where The Dark Knight stands, and within arms reach. The tone of his voice is inciting and inflammatory. His posture and gestures are aggressive. Then he leans forward putting his face close up to The Knights.

All this occurs with Robin standing a mere six feet away, and if he were asked right now he'd admit to being scared excrementless. He also realizes something else that scares him; he doesn't have a clue what to do right now. Batman, his

mentor and friend just admitted to killing people. Obviously more has changed than just the costume under his cape. So he doesn't know just how well balanced _this _Batman is. And on the other side he has a former ward, super-hero with a super bruised ego

who seems like he doesn't know when to shut up and leave well enough alone. So in the absence of having a plan Robin just backs up and gives the now Combatant Crusaders space. He looks on from as distant a spot as he can find and assesses the situation. Batman shifts his weight and pulls his cape around him as if to armor himself for the fight. He leans forward closing the space even more between he and NightWing and says,

"Now! You act now!" his words sound deathly. "At some point in your life you come to realize that by sticking your fingers in the holes of the dike, you're not going to stop the flood that's coming. So you can either run and be taken over by the wave of destruction when the damn breaks or you can find a way to relieve the pressure from the other side. Well, I'm not running. I refuse to allow another innocent life to be lost by those that would destroy everything decent in this city for their personal gain. The game is over, it all stops now. And I'll go straight through anyone who tries to stop me from protecting those lives".

The intensity of Batman's words and the grimace of his face cause NightWing to back up a step. This isn't the same Batman he knew, nor can it be the same man under the cowl. Even with one step back, Robin isn't satisfied with the distance between the two men. He feels that if he isn't able to do something to de-escalate this situation someone may not walk away.

"Those were nice words," he says. "But what am I supposed to do now that I know it's you out there taking people out? Do I look

the other way, or do you expect me to come running and join your self-righteous crusade."

There's a short frustrated pause in NightWings' words as he searches for words to fit his emotions. His back is to the Knight who has yet to move since their conversation began…"I can't believe you would put me in a position like this." His finger is up pointed now, and headed for Batman's face. Robin knows it's now or never, and even though his heart is pounding he jumps between the two men hoping to find a way to stop the argument but not start a fight.

"What do you care?" he yells at Nightwing. "You left Gotham a long time ago. And I was the one who called you just before Batman fought Bane and tried to get you to come back. Who knows, maybe if you would have been here to help none of this would have happened? But you left to go make a name for yourself in the big city. You run around with a group of High-powered super friends and fight super powered space villains' everyday in between breakfast and lunch. But some one has to protect the little people. That's what Batman is doing. This is a kill or let kill situation. What would you do in his place, huh, what would you do?

The Junior Crusaders words serve their purpose, NightWing ponders the words of the younger ward and relaxes his stance just a bit.

"Not what he's doing" NightWing replies. "I don't know whether I should turn you in or take you down myself."

At that Robin, who's still in between the two men, shoves NightWing hard!

"Don't even think about it NightChump! You don't live here, and you don't work here anymore. So what do you care? Batman's trying to protect Gothams citizens and stop innocent people from getting killed."

NightWing recovers from the shove and ends up in a low fighting stance. Robin feels Batman leaning forward against his back. Without thinking he pushes off Bruce and leaps toward NightWing with a flying kick, that isn't really meant to connect.

"Stop it!" NightWing yells. "Fighting each other isn't going to accomplish anything."

But it did. Robin succeeded in creating distance between the two and that was all he really wanted.

Dick rises from his crouched position saying,

"You're not the person I knew. The Batman I remember would have never turned his back on the system. He would have found a way to make things work for him. YOU are a fraud. You need to stop this now Bruce and let other authorities handle this situation. Otherwise you'll force me to stop you, and you know that I will if it comes to it."

Those are exactly the words he expected to hear from his

one-time friend, though they do not dissuade him from his purpose. Though deep inside he feels a sense of fatherly pride, Dick is standing fast on his principles; even in the face of staunch resistance he holds fast to his ideals, that is strength, and that same conviction is what He holds fast to himself. So he answers NightWing the only way he can,…

"Do what you think you have to do Dick. I wouldn't expect anything less. And, just so you know, I thought for weeks on how

to approach this matter. I weighed different courses of action, different strategies, and different methods. And yes, I considered whether our justice system could deal with the current threat as it's presenting itself right. And after all that I decided that _this_ **was** the best strategy to both protect the citizens of Gotham and end the threat of continued violence and destruction. You may or may not agree with the direction that I've taken in this matter. But then again I haven't asked you to. But if you know of a better way to stop this madness and save the lives' of the innocents please tell me, I'd truly like to hear it."

After Batman's words NightWing finds himself until able to raise a plausible rebuttal without sounding like a kiss-ass bureaucrat. And that disturbs him greatly for two reasons, first, he knows there has to be a better way to handle this situation, but he also knows that once Bruce makes up his mind about a matter there's little chance of persuading him otherwise. And two he feels bad for not being able to defend the Justice System more adequately. His whole life has been based on the very precepts Batman seems to have turned his back on…

"Times change NightWing, just look at yourself, just as the criminal element in Gotham has changed you changed. Today's breed is more ruthless and uncaring than any of those you and I faced. The Riddler, The Penquin, even The Joker, none of them went out with the intent of harming anyone. They were always content with heisting a few paintings or, bags of money, or a handful of jewels. But the criminal mind of today is far more sinister and deadly. A crack dealer has no concern of how much damage the product he sells does to the family of the victim he sells it to. All he cares about is whether or not he gets his money. All thugs like that do is destroy lives, day after day and the system handles them with a revolving door policy, sometimes they' re in and out of jail all in the same day. And what does the system do for those whose lives' are torn apart, nothing, nothing at all. I don't like it anymore than you do Dick, but we've all got to face the truth, the system **doesn't** work anymore. If it did the three of us wouldn't be necessary. But since we are I'll be damned if **I'm** going to stand by and allow one more innocent life to be cut down, while the system searches for more _effective methods_ to deal with crime on our city streets. I'll leave the waiting and posturing to people like you."

With those words spoken Batman takes open step toward the edge of the building and is gone. Both Robin and NightWing

hear his glider wings snap into place in mid fall. They catch the air and carry The Dark Knight silently into the night. Neither of the pair moves, both are digesting the words said here tonight.

The young Robin is the first to speak up.

"Damn!"

NightWing looks over toward him and finds the strength to give a small chuckle.

Yeah, I know.

Timothy, being Timothy uses his wily ways of persuasion to pry out Night Wing's intentions without him realizing that he's given up his plans.

Sooo, what are you gonna do? He pops

Dick looks over toward the young ward but doesn't really see him; all he can see is the uniform; the colorful suit that framed his identity, and gave him purpose for so many years. His mind is flooded with images and memories, almost all of them good ones. They remind him of the times when the line of conviction was marked clearly in the sand. Criminals were criminals, heroes were heroes and justice was justice. But now the lines are clearly blurred; there is truth in Bruce's words that cannot be easily dismissed. The system has changed, and not for the better. It has become a quagmire of obscured laws, lengthy appeal processes, and miles and miles and miles of system killing red tape. It is flawed; many would even say it is failing. And often enough it does appear that criminals enjoy more protections and services under the law than victims do themselves.

NightWing walks over to the edge of the building and steps up on the ledge then pauses.

Robin tries one last time.

"Well…?"

But all he gets is,…

"Be careful out there kid, I have a strong feeling that things are going to get bad before they get a whole lot worse".

And he is gone.

Robin remains several minutes, pondering; first, being grateful he survived that encounter without incurring any bruises or broken bones. Second, it really hits him just how uncertain the future has just become. His benefactor and mentor; the man who brought stabilization and promise to his life after the death of his Mother and father, has apparently transformed from the worlds greatest Detective and Crime fighter, into a death-questing Robo Cop on crack. The Young Crusader takes deep breath, a really deep breath, then thinks of the only two people in the world who may be able to help him make heads or tails out of this situation. But which one should he turn to. He takes another breath as he steps backwards into the shadows to cover his departure, but just before he goes he quietly utters his frustration to the dilemma that now muddles _his_ thoughts.

"Damn!"

And he is gone.


End file.
